


Haunt

by echoist



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: AU, M/M, Missing Scene, Shura Country
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-07
Updated: 2010-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoist/pseuds/echoist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fay and Kurogane come to an understanding of sorts while stranded in Shura Country without their translator.  Spoilers through Chapter 68 of the manga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunt

        Kurogane woke to the sound of water trickling down from the roof in icy streams, a clear sheet obscuring the narrow mouth of the cave. It was a better shelter than he had anticipated, the jagged tear in the rock face curving just enough to hide the smooth, time-worn hollow at the back. The cave was small enough to heat with a cook fire, but large enough for the both of them to sleep in reasonable comfort, their presence concealed from any outside observers.

        It had taken them two weeks of sleeping in trees, under trees, behind boulders and once, in a scenario he would never repeat, pressed close together beneath a hastily-constructed lean-to before finding the cave. He would have kicked the squirmy bastard out into the storm that night, but this country didn't joke around when it came to weather. No matter how addled the wizard's brain already was, a knock to the skull from a fist-sized piece of hail could only have made it worse. Kurogane rolled over onto his side, giving the coals in the fire pit a solid poke with a charred piece of wood before noticing that he was alone.

        _Goddamn nutcase_, Kurogane thought, shaking the dust off the haori he was using to soften the cavern floor. The wizard seemed to exist solely to aggravate him; between talking in his sleep, tossing and turning until he landed in the cook fire and required extricating, and whining constantly in his unintelligible language, it was a wonder Kurogane hadn't beaten the idiot senseless. Now, he thought with a grunt of irritation, he could add wandering off for no good reason to the list.

        It was nearly dawn; a sickly half-light filtered down through the inconstant waterfall as he passed beneath it and out into a driving rain. Kurogane held a hand over his eyes to block the stinging, half-frozen drops made projectiles by the fierce wind. Rain had filled the recent tracks left by something large and ponderously heavy outside the cave and he wondered if he would find anything left of the wizard. An oddly rhythmic splashing sound carried above the weather, at odds with the steady, monotonous pounding from above and he struck out in the direction of the sound. He was soaked to the skin before even losing sight of the cave. What had that idiot been thinking? This was no morning for a pleasant walk, the mix of ice and bitterly cold rain announcing the approach of winter in no uncertain terms.

       There – just at the edge of his range of vision, Kurogane thought he could make out a slender figure. Still as a statue, oblivious to the biting wind that surely tore through his drenched, too-thin robes, the wizard stared out across an expanse of water as though keeping watch. As Kurogane approached, he raised his arm and skipped a small, flat stone across the surface in a long curving arc. Fay paused, arm outstretched until the ripples died away, the stone having long since traveled out of sight in the rain-conjured mist. He bent to pick up another stone from the small pile at his feet, and Kurogane made his way closer, stomping a bit louder than was strictly necessary.

* * *

        Fay felt the weight of the water-worn stone in his hands, gaged the appropriate force and angle before sailing it across the lake. He watched it glide and skip, saw the ripples overlap as they faded into one another and vanished beneath the steady onslaught of an early morning rain. Thirteen iterations this time, each jump of the stone shortening its distance by precisely the same amount as the path spiraled in upon itself. Water and stone, invocation and transfiguration, flesh and blood all followed the same invariable laws; why could the heart not fall in line? Another stone, another flawless replication of the pattern, and the memory of his face was still as fresh, still as sharp as it had been upon waking.

       Nowhere, it seemed, was far enough away.

* * *

        “Oi,” Kurogane shouted over the rain when no response seemed forthcoming from the mage. “The hell are you doing out here?” The words, he knew, would sound like gibberish in the other man's ears, but was hopeful that his tone might convey his annoyance properly. It had certainly worked before.

        Another stone flickered across the water, skipping five times, six, in quick succession and Kurogane lost count. Fay's movements were precise, mechanical, almost as if -

        As if he were sleepwalking, Kurogane thought belatedly, his hand brushing the wizard's shoulder before he could withdraw. A sound, then, like a bird knocked from the sky; Fay's arms raised defensively to ward away the spectres only he could see. Kurogane stilled, confounded by the unexpected reaction and unpleasantly cold. The early morning air was chill by the water's edge, and after a moment of stupified inaction, the warrior shrugged off his haori and wrapped it loosely around the cringing wizard. It was just as wet as the rest of him, but it would at least cut the sword-sharp wind. He placed his hands hesitantly over Fay's and gently drew his arms down to his sides.

        “Only an idiot would stay out here in this storm,” Kurogane scolded in a low voice, as though the wizard were a spooked horse. “Idiot.”

        Fay's eyes slid open, dull and empty, seeing nothing as he focused on the rain-soaked earth below. A blink, a shiver that racked his body from head to toe, and then the slow warmth of recognition crept across his face like a light. “Sjal mér aeth valðir?” he whispered, his tone questioning and somewhat incredulous.  
        Kurogane's mouth twisted uncertainly and he shrugged. “Whatever you say, moron. C'mon, on your feet.” He tugged at the wizard's hands as he stood, boots hopelessly mired in the icy muck. Fay rose obediently, clinging stubbornly to Kurogane's hand when he tried to pull away. He struck out towards the cave, unsettled, pulling the half-asleep nutcase behind him in his wake.

        He pushed Fay before him as they reached the series of stacked stones and outcroppings that formed the path up to their shelter, hands at his back to hold the wizard steady. Once inside, Kurogane busied himself with building the fire back up, thankful that he had thought to stack several days worth of mostly-dry twigs and branches in the corner. Nothing outside the cave was even remotely flammable in its current drenched state.

        Realizing that the only sound for the past several minutes had been the hungry crackling of a well-fed fire, Kurogane turned apprehensively back towards the entrance. Fay was precisely where he had left him, huddled in his borrowed haori, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. His gaze was focused entirely on a single icicle clinging stubbornly to the ceiling. Kurogane watched as a drip slid down its frozen length and landed wetly on his cheek without so much as a blink in response from the mage.

        “What are you doing?” He asked, exasperated. As empty headed as Fay could be at times, this wasn't like him. Kurogane wondered for the thousandth time just where that kid and his girlfriend had gotten themselves to, taking their furry manju-bun translator with them. Everything would be so much easier if he could just talk to the idiot. Talk, and be understood; maybe even listen in return. He was beginning to worry that the others weren't in this world at all, and if so -

* * *

        He meant well; Fay was sure of it. The swordsman couldn't know that in each world, every skip along the path, his sins were waiting anew to be rediscovered. Every faltering step, each breath of unfamiliar air pulled him closer to the moment when he would sink beneath their weight. The king would awaken; he would hear the voice of warning in his heart and know it was finally over.

        _What will you do then_, he wondered, watching the slow progress of a single drop along an icicle's frozen length. Will you keep running and risk their lives as well? If his path had separated from the boy and girl, then so much the better. He could not ask them to stand and face his enemy when time ran short, could not ask that even of this man...

        This man, concerned for him even now; an anchor in the storm his dreams had conjured, casting him adrift. He should let go, before he dragged his steadfast companion down below the waves. He should use this chance, when he could not be swayed by Sakura's smile, or Syaoran's grim determination, to slip away. He could be gone in an instant, fading into another world where he could not bring misfortune to those he -

        To the little kitten, ears still folded and wet, eyes not yet open to the world. To her loyal knight, struggling so hard for a life that was not even his to save. To his ardent defender, never seeming to understand the futility of protecting the walking dead. _You said it yourself, my dear warrior_; why did he seem so eager to fight for a man who refused to live? Why was the thought of going on alone so very bitter in his throat?

* * *

        Kurogane stood up, joints aching in protest from the damp weather. Crossing the space to where the mage stood, transfixed by the wonder of melting ice, Kurogane grabbed him by the shoulders. “Snap out of it, all right? You're freaking me out.”

        Fay lowered his head and favored Kurogane with a distant, half-hearted smile. “Kuro-fuu,” he chided gently, and the warrior winced at how much worse the wizard's nicknames sounded in his own language. It was all air and nonsensical rhythm, stresses in the middle of words and more consonants than should ever be pronounced together. It did nothing to improve his mood, cold and sopping wet at the crack of dawn, staring down a man as confusing as the words he uttered less and less each day.

        “Aeth ne valðinja.” Fay tilted his head, his smile brightening several degrees at the look of resigned confusion on Kurogane's face. “Svenye.” He lifted one of the warrior's hands from his shoulder and wound his fingers around Kurogane's before pressing it to his cheek. Fay closed his eyes, pantomiming sleep, and Kurogane let out the breath that had somehow gotten stuck in his chest. The wizard lifted his head and pointed to his eyes, still firmly shut, then pressed both their hands against his chest. “Røm.”

        Kurogane blinked, forcing his brain to interpret the puzzling series of gestures. He had tried his hand at make-shift sign language for the first few days, giving up when it only seemed to confuse the wizard further. Fay repeated the sequence twice more, each time uttering the same word at the end, sounding more like the purr of a large cat than any human language should.

        “Hrum?” Kurogane attempted, wondering if Fay had any intention of ever returning his hand. The wizard snickered lightly at his pronunciation, the curve of his lips never quite reaching his eyes. “Ok, fine, so I can't say it – what the hell does it mean?” Fay simply shook his head and dropped his hands to his sides, disentangling their fingers. Kurogane thought through the sequence of gestures once more, his mind ghosting over the image of stones dancing across the water and the blank look on the wizard's face.

        Suddenly he understood. “A dream?” he questioned. “All that, over some stupid dream?” Fay had turned towards the fire, away from Kurogane, and a hand at his arm only resulted in a tired glance over his shoulder. “Hrun,” he tried again, fine-tuning the sound as best he could, and the wizard nodded his head once, as if to say, passable. “What kind of – hrun?” he pidgined, figuring if there were any words Fay had learned in Japanese beyond _quiet,_ _stop_, and _dammit_, an interrogative or two might be on the list.

        Fay worried his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed. Kurogane wasn't certain he had ever seen the wizard actually thinking that hard about anything, and he very nearly smiled. “Rai Ashura,” Fay said quietly, turning back around to warm his hands over the fire. That name again, Ashura, and with it the same hopeless stare as before the statue in Shara Town. If he hadn't been able to get any more explanation out of Fay in the last country, after that much wine had passed his lips and they had at least started out speaking the same language, his prospects now seemed dim. Kurogane let go of his arm and wondered if they were truly as alone in this world as he felt.

        The wizard slipped off the upper portion of the garment he had been wearing since that day, a gift from the priest in Yasha's temple, and stretched it out over a rock to dry. The firelight played along his spine, tracing the bends and curves of what looked like a brand in the shape of a bird. Kurogane stared; he had always assumed, if he had thought of it at all, that the tattoo had vanished entirely when the dimension witch claimed it in payment. It had never occurred to him that the mark would prove indelible; a scar. Fay's hands drifted to the waistband of his loose, flowing pants, equally damp from the rain, but seemed to think better of removing them after a furtive glance in Kurogane's direction.

* * *

        Something drew his gaze back to the swordsman after hastily looking away, a strange curiosity Fay had never seen Kurogane direct at _him_. Mokona, certainly, the Dimension Witch once or twice, but now that intensity was focused where it couldn't possibly belong. He was no different than before, despite being soaked to the skin and relatively chilled. To the skin; could that be it? It was impossible to think that after all this time, Kurogane had never seen him in a state of undress. How many times had they shared quarters, shedding the trappings of one world for what passed as normal in another?

       Still...he could not recall a single time Kurogane had disrobed in his presence, and he expected such a thing would have been memorable indeed. Fay thought back to an afternoon in Korya spent watching his disgruntled companion hammer fifty-two nails into a damaged roof and thought he might perhaps know the reason for the warrior's avoidance.

        “What is it?” Fay asked, curiosity of his own winning out over his better judgment. Remembering belatedly that Kurogane had shown not the slightest aptitude for his language, he rephrased the question as best he could. “Nan des'ka?”

        He had been prepared for a variety of answers, most of them incomprehensible, not one of which involved Kurogane's fingers sliding like ghosts across his skin. The warrior traced the path the ward had scorched into his flesh as the magic fled his frame, wandered along its length as though navigating a maze. Fay shivered, his breath catching as the movements sent a chill down the length of his spine and fought the impulse to arch his back with pleasure. Did he know – could Kurogane have any idea what he was doing? Fay certainly hoped that he did.

* * *

        Kurogane heard the rhythm of Fay's breathing change as he followed the lines etched across his back and wondered, belatedly, if he had blundered across some magical interdiction. “How did this happen?” Kurogane asked, fairly certain he meant the tattoo, but not entirely certain what sort of answer he expected.

        “_Czer_na,” Fay sighed heavily, and Kurogane got the distinct impression they were talking about two very different things. “Kuro-ay,” Fay breathed, leaning into his touch; only then did Kurogane realize his hands were still on the wizard's skin, still tracing the intricate pattern as it wove back in on itself again and again. His hands fell to his sides and he took a step back, unaccountably embarrassed.

        Fay made a small, disappointed sound and turned to face the warrior, the question all too easily read in his strange, black eyes. A puddle had shown Kurogane his own transformed reflection, eyes dark and unknown. The image lent a sense of unreality to the entire misadventure, as though these things were happening to a stranger. A tired, lonely stranger who couldn't even remember the last time anyone had touched _him_ like that.

        Perhaps sensing the divide at which Kurogane wavered, Fay stepped forward to close the newly created distance. Running his hand along the edge of the kimono where it crossed the warrior's chest, Fay slid his fingers beneath it to lightly caress his skin. He laid his head against Kurogane's chest, his breath warm and steady, while his fingers continued their exploration.

        Kurogane felt his eyes sliding shut and wondered when this had spiraled so far out of his control. Raising his arms to Fay's shoulders, he gently pushed the wizard back a step, felt the warm rush of a sigh against his skin. Fay's hands lingered on his chest, pale hair obscuring his face as he avoided meeting Kurogane's eyes. If the kids had been there, Mokona in tow, this never would have happened; their laughter and camaraderie would have filled in the gaps in conversation, unraveled the tension making its home in his stomach. Every glance, every gesture would not have carried quite so much weight and maybe, maybe, they could have gone on pretending.

        His hand slid off the wizard's shoulder and up to stroke his cheek, brushing the hair from his eyes. Fay looked up, confusion and frustration fighting for space in the gaze he leveled on Kurogane. He didn't need to understand the wizard's language to read the message clear as day: _You started it. Make up your mind._

        Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the constant strain of being unable to communicate with his only companion in an empty, barren land. They'd had little to eat save what they could gather, game proving frustratingly elusive. It would be easy to blame his weakness on any of these things, to explain how the pretense of distance between them vanished as their lips met and held. Fay's hands lifted, hovering in the air uncertainly before settling lightly on his cheeks. The wizard's skin was flushed and warm, and his lips moved softly, hesitantly, as though afraid of being pushed away again.

        Kurogane wrapped an arm around Fay's waist, pulled him closer still and was rewarded with a low, inarticulate sound that transcended any spoken words. Fay parted his lips with his tongue, pushed gently against his open mouth. One slender, nimble hand left his face to travel south, expertly unraveling the knotted cord at his waist. Kurogane felt a breath of air across his skin as the kimono parted, and wondered when exactly his back had hit the cavern wall.

* * *

        _Finally_, Fay thought, wrapping his arms around Kurogane's neck, any further articulation lost to a slow, steady thrusting against his hips. He felt his pants slide down around his ankles and kicked them aside, groaning as the warrior's hands squeezed his hips hard enough to bruise. Fay slid his hands across Kurogane's shoulders, brushing the kimono aside and letting his fingers drift slowly down. His lips left Kurogane's to travel his throat, tongue flickering along the curves and hollows as he memorized the taste. It was salty and bitter all at once, familiarity forming words on his tongue that could never come to pass.

       Kurogane's hands were lifting him, exchanging their positions and the harsh stone surface cut into his skin. A hand between them, calloused and rough, bringing him close, so close, before sliding down and underneath. His head fell forward, eyes opening wide to find the warrior watching him with the closest thing to hesitation he had ever seen cross his face. “Kore wa – ii da ka? Saseru?”

       The words tumbled likes stones from his mouth, a jumble in Fay's ears and it sounded like he was asking _permission_. “Yes,” he moaned, pushing against Kurogane's fingers where they had stopped and he couldn't tell anymore which of them had uttered the sounds of nonverbal approval echoing around the cavern. Kurogane's eyes never left his face, not once; his fingers sliding in and out, teasing and Fay turned his head away from the honesty reflected there. Fay clung to his shoulders, eyes sliding shut as he wrapped his legs around the warrior's waist and guided him inside. Kurogane's palm pressed hard against the wall, their rhythm faltering for only a moment as he entered. Hot, uneven breath against Fay's cheek, the fierce, ragged pain of each thrust tearing strange words from his mouth that had no business in this place, this time. Fay spoke them anyway, syllables running together and over one another as he came too soon in a searing rush. Kurogane moved against him, inside of him, pulling him close again and again until his breath caught and held with a sound Fay would never forget.

        He fell back against the wall, smooth stone surface cool against his skin, eyes blissfully closed. The warrior's arm was still wrapped around Fay's hips, balancing him against the stone and he wondered how it would feel to be so very strong. A sound to his left; Kurogane's hand sliding down from the wall and a fierce, swift kiss as he tilted Fay's chin up to meet his lips. His eyes fluttered open as Kurogane's slid closed, but for a paralyzing instant all was laid bare.

        “If you knew who I was, what I'd done...” Fay sighed in resignation as his lover pulled away at last. “If you knew, you wouldn't - ” He stopped, voice unsteady, unable to finish the thought. Kurogane rested his head in the crook of Fay's neck for an endless moment before sinking slowly to his knees. Fay unwound his shaking legs from the warrior's hips and collapsed back against the rock with a sigh, utterly undone. He watched Kurogane duck beneath the waterfall, memorized his profile for the days to come in the dim, half-light that seeped around the corner. Fay could still feel the warrior's hands rough against his skin, a tactile ghost not easily washed away by water or time. He rose unsteadily to his feet, retrieved his slacks from the floor, and stumbled across to where his shirt lay stretched to dry, nearly yelping in surprise when they were softly, firmly taken from his grasp.

        Kurogane laid the fabric out along the floor along with his haori and kimono, pulling Fay down beside him as the fire burned away to embers. “Nemui da,” the warrior muttered, arms reaching out to wrap around the mage and hold him close. He didn't know what Kurogane meant, but it sounded remarkably like “You're mine,” and Fay couldn't argue with the presumption. He relaxed against the warrior's chest, listening to the slow, echoing rhythm of his heart against his ribcage, against the universe, and traced circles across his skin. Kurogane went strangely still, his fingers stopped in the act of stroking the wizard's hair and he drew in a halting breath. “Ore ga...anata wo koi de kowagatte iru.” His arms tightened around Fay, almost as if he thought the mage might disappear and Fay had never wanted to see Mokona as much as he did right now.

        “I try and I try, but I still don't understand, ” Fay whispered. “I can't stay; I can't promise you anything, but I'll give you all the time that I have left.” This moment, the brief space between heartbeats, was the most valuable thing he possessed; it belonged now, unquestionably, to Kurogane. Maybe, he thought, eyes drifting shut as sleep began to weave its spell, maybe that would be enough.

        When he dreamed, again, it was not of an empty, frozen world, nor a needle-sharp spire challenging the heavens. He saw instead a familiar shape hurling stone after stone into a smooth expanse of water, ripples spreading out like messengers to the far shore where he stood, silent, unmoving. A mosaic of wave-worn pebbles winked up at him from the lake bed, a narrow path inviting him to cross the shallow reach. One step and then another; on the far shore, Kurogane held a jagged piece of shale, smoothing the edges in his hands. The water rose around him, cold and grasping, pulling him down into the dark, airless world where he belonged. Struggling for one last glimpse of the man on the shore, he saw the arm plunged below the surface, heard the words as clearly as though they were spoken at his ear.

        _Take my hand. _

        The water coiled around his limbs, icy currents reaching up to drag him away as was their right. He did not deserve to exist in that sunlit world of warmth and comfort, a law the shadows given voice in his heart would never let him forget. A hand at his wrist, impossibly, the distance too far for anyone to cross and yet -  
Fay's head broke the surface of the water and he gasped for breath, blinking in the sudden light. He knelt alone in a shallow riverbed, his rescuer nowhere to be found.

* * *

       A sound drew Kurogane out from sleep, small pieces of ice cracking in the onslaught of water from the sky. They would only freeze again tonight, he knew, making their path to the ground impassable. They should be moving on before winter drew any nearer.

        A small movement, a smaller sound; the wizard lay fast asleep in troubled dreams. Fay clutched his hand, their fingers intertwined against Kurogane's chest. He lacked the words to comfort, to drive away the fear at its source; not all battles could be settled with swords. Kurogane settled for holding on until the worry left his face, Fay's breathing slow and even - his ghosts, for now, asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> **haunt:**
> 
> 1\. To inhabit, visit, or appear to in the form of a ghost.  
> 2\. A frequently visited place, an accustomed habitat.  
> 3\. To be continually present in; pervade.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> * Everyone in this fandom wrote a stranded-in-Shura-Country fic; this is mine. Be gentle. ;-)  
> * I made up Fay's language for fun, don't bother trying to translate it.  
> * My Japanese is abysmal! I figured it didn't matter, since Kuro isn't precisely Japanese anyway, and the idea is for each side not to understand the other. Please feel free to correct me, however, if you do speak Japanese and Kuro-tan isn't making any sense.  
> * This fic would not exist without uberbeta [sincarnae](http://sincarnae.livejournal.com/); she nursed it through WIP hell and kicked me in the pants when I wanted to give up on it. Thank you, love!


End file.
